Scarlet Addiction
by Okadiah
Summary: Jellal has an addiction. It's deadly and unforgivable, and he hated himself every time he got his fix. But he couldn't stop. How could he? He was only a man, and a weak one at that. After all, how could he possibly abstain from Erza's crimson hair, her smile, and that look in her eyes which promised him the world?


**A/N: This piece is a little darker than I'd intended, but I think it's a possible psychology of Jellal. Anyway, let me know what you think and enjoy! I hope you like it.**

* * *

 **Scarlet Addiction**

Jellal knew he had an addiction, and it was a deadly one. He knew better, he knew he did, but curiosity and a deep-seated longing spanning decades had prompted him into a single moment of weakness, and that had been all it had taken. Just one, stolen, unforgivable moment, and he'd been lost.

He'd tried desperately to resist, he really had. Jellal had done everything he could think of to prevent that single instance from developing into a deadly behavior, but … he was weak. And though he hated himself for it, though his shame and his guilt never failed to make itself known again, once he indulged, he couldn't seem to stop.

Sometimes he was successful. He knew enough about psychology and behavior to know that there were signs and triggers and environments which conditioned the body to _want_ , no, to _need_ the object of addiction. He wasn't foolish enough not to notice them well in advance. Sometimes, when he realized he was about to be triggered, he could with great force of will and agony, avoid it. Be strong. Uphold the moral standard he _must_ have for himself.

But he knew that those times were very rare. He indulged. He indulged as often as he could.

At first, the addiction hadn't been anything. Little things. Small doses. It could hardly be called a problem. But he had to admit that those 'little things' and 'small doses' had been everything he'd needed to strengthen the foundations for the addiction, and before he knew it, he was going out of his way, _far_ out of his way, to get a fix.

It was all consuming. It was all he wanted, all he could think about anymore. In the past, the longing had been something small that he could control, something that burned slow and low, like deeply buried coals. But those coals had been ignited, and now there was no stopping it. Logically, he knew he needed to. He knew he was powerful, he knew he had the discipline, but his discipline escaped him, destroyed by soft skin, a vibrant personality, and hair scarlet red.

"Jellal?"

Jellal hummed in appreciation as Erza walked in, clad in nothing but a very small, very short red silk negligee which made her hair burn brighter. Arousal swelled like a warm wave through his body. He smiled at her just as she gave a bold and confident smile back as she walked towards where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Unable to resist, he gently placed his hands on her hips, so hot beneath the thin silk. He smirked in pleasure as she gripped his shoulders for stability before straddling his hips, framing his thighs with her endless and powerful legs.

"What are you thinking about?" Erza asked, her voice lower than usual, soft and seductive as it always was when they were together like this, another factor which fed his addiction.

"You," he answered honestly as he reached up to bury his hands in her long scarlet hair. "It never fails. I'm almost always thinking of you." Her scarlet hair, her power, her faith in him, his addiction. "I might be developing a problem."

He'd said it in a teasing tone, and all Erza could do was smile at him as if she knew. Smile, as if that was exactly what she wanted from him, his attention consumed by her.

"Is it really so big a problem?" she mused as she pulled his hands from her hair so that she could place them on her waist instead before she leaned down to steal his lips, giving him a bountiful eyeful in the process.

Jellal wondered about that as he kissed her, and knew beyond a doubt that it _was_ a problem. His thoughts and decisions often were lined with her in consideration. More often these days, his actions were less considerate and more deliberate, and he waited for the day when Crime Sorcière would call him out on it. He already suspected Meredy knew, but what of the others? What of their goals? Sometimes thoughts of her plagued him relentlessly on mission, and he knew he was in trouble.

He worried that his desire for Erza wasn't so much a deep want anymore, as much as a throbbing need.

Addicted. He was addicted, and he knew it wouldn't stop. It would only grow stronger.

Jellal's hands slid up Erza's back as hers slipped into his hair, and he gasped as she bit his lip with a wicked grin, one he shot back immediately. It seemed tonight she was in it to play rough. And he was more than willing to give his Queen everything she desired.

With strength and the advantage of surprise, he flipped them so she rested below him on her back, sandwiched between the mattress and his hard body, and as he kissed her again, drowning on her lips. His hand slid high up her thigh and under the silk of the negligee. Erza groaned and attempted to arch against him as he palmed her, but he stayed pressed against her, restricting her movement for as long as he could. He wondered how long she'd let him stay on top. He wondered how long she'd bend to his desire.

He wondered when she'd decide she wanted to turn the tides.

It was what he most looked forward to, when they had their affair.

There was one thing about Erza that he knew to the very heart of him. Erza was a conqueror. She was a warrior. She was uncontrollable as fire, indomitable as steel, and in sex as in life, she claimed with the brilliance and surety of a queen. She liked the fight, but when it came down to it, she won.

And he loved it when she won.

Control was a huge part of his life. After Zeref and the Tower, after being used and manipulated, control in life, work, and love was everything to him. He needed control because he was so powerful, because he was wanted, because there was something between him and Erza which could flare bright and unstoppable and if his control was lost, he was lost.

In a paradoxical way, it was a good thing he gave up control to Erza. She knew the dangerous game they played. She knew _him_. She knew _them_ and every unspoken thing that should have been said between them, but wasn't. Most of all, she knew how far to take them, and when to stop. If it had been Jellal who had to make that call, he doubted he'd be able to make the right one.

But she always did. _Always_.

And it made the addiction that much worse. That much stronger.

Jellal groaned when with a powerful throw Erza mounted him, almost throwing them both off the bed in the process. They both laughed and grinned as they grabbed and ground and groaned with pleasure as they fought each other, slowly divesting one another other of their clothing in the process.

Jellal chewed gently on Erza's nipple as she guided him into her body with a pleased moan, one that he echoed with a hum, succeeding in making her shiver as the hum sunk into her. Glorious. She was glorious.

Erza forced him back, but he dug his fingers into her hips as he thrust into her, and another battle emerged, one of his favorites. Who could cause the most pleasure?

In this, he always won.

His Queen might win the battle and ride him and demand from him with all the majesty she deserved, but he felt he won the war. Pleasing her pleased him. After everything he'd done to her, her pleasure was paramount to him because one day he was sure she would wake up and realize just how terrible he was. That she could do better, _so much better_. He was a criminal. He was _lucky_ to have her.

And knowing that, he worshiped her like she deserved for as long as he possibly could. His addiction demanded it. He _craved_ that look of rapture, of release that he could give her. He knew her well enough to know she didn't fake it. It was real. It was all he could give her.

Sometimes he wondered if others had seen that look, and it made resisting his addiction that much harder. He didn't _want_ that. The selfish, detestable part of him didn't deserve to think he had some sort of claim on her. She was a beautiful, strong woman. She could be with whoever she wanted. Erza _deserved_ to be, instead of wasting her time on him.

Even knowing that, he still came to her, still loved her and thrilled that she was his again, and she still smiled at him with that smile which promised he was the only one. A smile which promised love and sunshine and a future he didn't dare let himself dream of. A life he knew he'd never deserve. He didn't let himself wonder why she did that. He didn't want to let himself hope.

He knew he'd long since lost that fight.

"Jellal!" Erza cried as she slammed her hips down on his with one final thrust. Her nails dug deep into his chest and the pain heightened his pleasure, and with one final thrust of his own, she dragged his orgasm from him as well.

"Erza," he groaned into the hair at her neck as she collapsed on top of him, spent. Erza. His magnificent Erza.

They cuddled, and when passion flared between them again they found their release a second, and then a third time. It was always that way with their affairs. Hot nights of seemingly endless passion until Erza finally curled against his side and fell asleep, safe in a monster's arms.

Jellal held her as he watched her sleep, and knew his addiction had grown again, had been reinforced. This amazing, incredible woman was dangerous to him. He didn't deserve her, but he drank her in regardless, craved her as if she were the finest drug, tailor made. One that made his heart beat with warmth and love that was so unworthy. But it was all he had to give, and or some reason he knew he'd never understand, she wanted it. Erza practically forced him to give it to her.

He knew he'd have to leave soon, and he should sleep while he could, but in spite of his logic, just like every other time they'd had their affair he left with less sleep than he should have. Truth was, _this_ was one of the things he looked forward to most. If not _the_ most.

It was now, while she was sleeping cuddled close next to him, trusting and safe that he could almost believe the lie he spun for himself. A lie of an impossible life with this woman, in a home of their own, with a life of their own, happy and in peace. In these forbidden, quiet moments … the addiction was highest because it was everything he wanted. Everything he craved. It was why he kept coming back, making the addiction stronger, more powerful when reason pleaded with him to give it up.

Jellal couldn't. Because it would mean giving up this quiet fantasy. Giving up this single stolen moment of peace, shared with a woman he shouldn't have. With the woman he loved.

It would mean admitting that he really _couldn_ _'t_ have this, even if it was true.

And so he fed his addiction. And so he believed his lie. And so he kept coming back to her side, kept touching her body and drinking in her love and kept making her happy in any way he could because he was an addict and he loved her. He needed her. He needed this.

And although he knew it wouldn't end well, knew there was no way it _could_ ….

With a quiet sigh he nuzzled Erza's soft smelling hair and held her tight against him, warm and firm and soft. He held her tightly because next time … there wouldn't be a next time. Next time, he'd be stronger. Next time, he'd fight off his addiction.

Next time … next time ….


End file.
